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Jarrod Manchester
GENERAL Birth Name: Jarrod Manchester Race: Lycan Age: 25 Gender: Male Birthplace: California Current Location: Wandering Family Relations: Father and mother, currently estranged, older brother, Cristopher Weapon: Good with a stiletto knife, his lycan form Other Items Owned: Nothing out of the ordinary BACKGROUND Personality: Level headed, humorous, a bit cynical at times, doesn't get flustered easily, good conversationalist, has surprisingly good insight for a beach bum, likes animals of any kind. Sometimes he comes off as a bit slow and confused due to a head injury. Overall he is intelligent, though. Detailed History: Jarrod is the youngest in a family of two children. Born in California, he learned to swim almost as soon as he could walk. His family lived right by the beach; he soon took up surfing and, at the age of 16, became a lifeguard. Never good at school, his grades declined more and more throughout high school as he spent more and more time on the beach with his friends. Graduating at the bottom of his class, his parents sent him away to college, inland and away from his first love; the beach. Jarrod quickly became depressed and did nothing but languish in his dorm room and work out to distract himself. After failing all his classes, his parents refused to pay for any more semesters, and Jarrod moved back to the beach. For a while he dwelt in a small shack in the sand, patrolling the beach as a lifeguard during the week, surfing on weekends, and running for miles at night. one night, that all changed. A body fell from the pier, and Jarrod jumped in to save it. He dragged ashore a teenager. Not minutes later a gorgeous young woman ran up. The two revived the young man, whose name was Shaw, and he took both of them to his ramshackle house. There he got to know them a bit better, and his admiration of the dark haired Namir increased. But then he found out something shocking. Both of them were lycans, aka werewolves. Even more surprising was the realization that these were no wolf beasts like books and movies described. They were controlled, though ferocious, and generally good. Vampires, they told him, were the real beasts on the scene. Jarrod was overwhelmed with the realization that both races were real. Within the course of a week, he had become a lycan, turned by Shaw when Namir was in danger. He and Namir fell rapidly and wholly in love, much to Shaw's disgust. He soon left to recruit others, though Namir stayed with Jarrod. But soon her roving paws became restless, and Jarrod left with her. He traveled the world with her, balancing being a protector and letting the headstrong and fiesty Namir defend herself. He came to the den with her, despite Shaw's growing aversion to him, and was committed to fighting in the war to end the vampiric threat. They whispered words of love the night before the war, knowing that one or both of them might not make it out alive. But little did they know it was not the war that would bring about their parting. The war raged on as if it would never end, and Jarrod's swift eyes lost sight of the glossy black wolf that was Namir. He was involved in conflicts of his own, however, and soon became wholly consumed with the task of defeating the hoardes of vampires that came to meet them. Towering over his opposition, Jarrod, changed into a massive white wolf, tore, bit, and decimated his way through the ranks. A growing panic rose in him. Namir was nowhere in sight. He had to know she was okay. She could fight, yes, but he wanted to fight with her. After what seemed like an eternity, the war was over. Vampires fled, leaving their base to skulk in the shadows, to regroup. Streaked in blood and dust, Jarrod searched frantically for his love. But she was nowhere to be found. The lycan masses were severely depleted as well, and the white wolf searched, heartbroken, among the bodies for any sign of his Namir. But Namir was not there. Racked with grief, Jarrod ran from the battle, searching anywhere he could for the dark haired beauty he loved. She was not at the base, nor at the battle, and he did not know where she had gone. Howling his grief to the silver moon, he cried out for Namir to come. But no gray eyes came to sparkle at him, no soft skin came to hold him, Namir was gone. Jarrod, however, was not one to give up hope. Perhaps she too had been separated, was looking for him. He went back to the place both of them had so many memories at - the small beach house by the ocean. Namir, however, was not there. Never giving up hope, Jarrod stayed there for days, waiting, hoping her smiling face would peer around the corner, her melodious voice would call to him. Every night and day, though, it was silent but for the crash of the ocean and the lonesome cries of seagulls. A week after his arrival, Jarrod went out surfing to ease his troubled mind. Foolishly, he defied the rules of surfing by going alone and surfing by the piers. The last thing he remembered was the roar of waves and the crack of something hard. It was his head. Two hours later Jarrod awoke in the hospital, bandaged and hooked up to machines of every kind. He did not know where he was or who he was. The hospital staff found his wallet and told him his name was Jarrod. There had been a surfing accident; he somehow had not cut himself too badly, but his brain had been damaged severely. Thanks to his lycan healing, he had escaped death. But only his body had healed. Within a few days he was discharged, and he wandered about, oblivious as to what he was or why he was here. Over time, he realized there was something different about him. He healed fast, escaped injury, and seemed to have much keener senses than everyone else. Also, on full moons bad things happened. He did not remember what exactly they were, but he knew that there was blood on him the next morning. Over time, Jarrod grew restless and began to wander further, searching for something. Voices, gray eyes, and howls of wolves haunted his sleep, driving him on. He did not remember his past, nor what he was searching for. Jarrod was determined to find it, however. Now he had wandered as far as the north, roaming around New York. Something about the place called to him as a moth to flame, and he searches for what he lost. Fears: Sleep, dreams, never gaining back his memory Strengths: Calm, a good fighter, very strong due to his daily workouts, goes with the flow and doesn't get stressed easily Weaknesses: Too trusting, will give anything he has to help someone Likes: The beach, surfing, anything interesting from the ocean Dislikes:Sharks, sharp rocks APPEARANCE Facial Appearance: Unkempt sandy blond hair that hangs in his eyes a bit, sea-green eyes, tan skin, strong face Clothing: washed out cutoff jeans, when he does wear a shirt it is usually a casual white button-up shirt, sometimes buttoned, sometimes not. He wears a shark's tooth on a leather necklace Build: About 6'2", broad chest, strong muscles, in the prime of his life Marks/Scars: One scar that runs across his lower back from when he was foolish enough to surf near the piers. Posts involved in Wandering First Blood Category:Characters Category:Lycans